


Draconic Magic

by esama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some random Harry Potter x Temeraire crossover ideas and unfinished stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draconic Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was originally posted on fanfiction.net on 04/04/2012  
> Proofread by Darlene and Spurio

 

1.

 

"How about you fellows discuss it amongst yourselves," the aviator suggested almost kindly, while the musicians exchanged nervous glances. "I’ll just be over there, taking the air."

As he walked away, the men of the quartet turned to Harry, who was idly tuning his violin. "What?" he asked, looking from one man to another – he didn't know them very well, what with people in this world being so damned withdrawn and polite and moral that they never tried to make any noise about themselves. While he, well, he had a mild drinking problem; that was to say, he drank and then told people more than he probably should've. So, while he didn't know them, they knew him probably better than they liked to.

"I don't suppose you’d mind playing for a crowd of dragons," the cellist muttered, giving him a half exasperated, half amused look.

"Not really, no," Harry said and lifted the violin to his shoulder, fitting his chin comfortably against it and drawing the bow across the recently tuned string a few times. "They couldn't be any less appreciative than the last audience if they tried – and it's a _lot_ of money that bloke is offering."

"Yes, but dragons," the violist said uncomfortably and the other two nodded emphatically.

"Well, suit of yourselves,” Harry said, and started on a simple little melody. "I can go and play a few solos for them, unless they really want a string quartet. And then all that lovely money is all mine."

They gave him ugly looks, to which he only grinned, and after a moment it was decided that all four of them would go.

A few days later, they were directed to set themselves up in the corner of a pavilion, with a large clearing just behind them – probably for the benefit of the dragons. Harry had his clothing in something resembling order and his violin ready, so he had a little less preparing to do; instead he ventured out of the pavilion curiously, watching the aviators and sailors and servants go about, in preparation of their celebrations.

How weird it was, to be in this strange world with dragons, with war – and not really be a part of it. Harry had been a warrior most of his life, fighting dark creatures and wizards and magic and Merlin only knew what else he had encountered along the years – and yet, here he had become a musician. He didn't mind, certainly; this world seriously lacked radios and record players and he rather liked music, so it was sort of nice to have it always at hand. But it made no bloody sense.

There was a dragon not far from the pavilion, a large gold and red hued one, which was lying on its side and snoring loudly. Leaning against a section of wall, Harry watched the beast with admiration, it was big enough to eat the house he’d grown up in, and then look for seconds. And there was another dragon coming to land, a blue one with vicious yellow markings and sort of tusks.

"Sir, sir?" a voice called and, turning, Harry saw a kid coming to his way – a little girl in an aviator uniform, looking worried. "Perhaps you should go back to the pavilion, sir, the other dragons are coming to land?"

"I can't watch? Am I not supposed to be here?" Harry asked, and the girl blinked with surprise. Just then another dragon, a great black behemoth, flew overhead, hovering there, and starting its descent. "They're bigger than I thought," Harry said, deeply impressed. His world's dragons were one and all _midgets_ in comparison to these beasts.

"Well, they are heavyweights," the girl said, seeming to relax a bit since Harry wasn't panicking and about to dash off to get himself squished beneath a descending dragon. "Maximus there is the biggest dragon we know of," she added, pointing at the snoring red beast. "He weighs over forty tons."

"That's a lot of dragon," Harry agreed, and idly tugged at the strings, playing a little pizzicato. It drew the black dragon's attention, and the great beast instantly swung his head to look at Harry.

"Hello," the beast said, looking at him. "Is that a musical instrument? Are you from a concert?"

Harry blinked and then grinned. "Yes, it's a violin, and no. A concert is the whole event of playing music with people watching – I am from a string quartet," he said, "which is group of four people playing music with string instruments."

"Oh. I see. I have never heard music, so I was not quite sure about the proper terms," the dragon said, looking pleased. "It is very nice to meet you. I am Temeraire, and this is Lily – and that over there is Maximus, but he is asleep," the dragon said.

"Harry Potter, at your service, and the pleasure is all mine," Harry said, amused. "I suppose you're the dragons I and the others will be playing for?"

"Well, the people can listen too, but Laurence hired you because I asked him," Temeraire said, looking pleased.

"Catherine pitched in too," the blue dragon with enormous wings said, indignantly.

"Well, sure, she did," Temeraire said magnanimously before looking at Harry keenly. "Will you play something for us?"

"Sure, there's still time before the event starts," Harry said, and fitted the violin beneath his chin. "I'll play you a song of my people," he muttered under his breath, grinning as he mentally fitted notes to the Hogwarts song.

"Oh, oh," the big black dragon said, and turned to the red behemoth. "Maximus, Maximus, wake up. Mr. Potter is going to play music for us!" he said, and when the red dragon didn't as much as stir, he harrumphed and went about nudging the other dragon – except the size difference between the two of them was so great, that it didn't look as much nudging as it looked ineffectual tickling.

Tickling the sleeping dragon. When Hogwarts Founders had come up with the motto, they probably hadn't considered that the _someone_ tickling the sleeping dragon might be another dragon. Harry grinned to himself and then began to play.

 

2.

 

"Good grief – what was that?" Liu Bao asked, grasping the wall for support while the Allegiance rocked and bobbed beneath them. Harry managed to only barely keep the low table between them from turning over and the tea cups from being thrown astray, though he had to keep his hold on them until the rocking stopped.

"I don't know – I don't think the weather is anywhere bad enough to affect the ship this badly," the wizard said and once the deck was steady enough, he released his hold on the table. "I’ll go and see," he added, standing up.

Outside the cabin, the weather hadn’t changed: still sunny with a slight breeze and quite pleasant. However, Lung Tien Xiang was gone, which made Harry frown momentarily; the Celestial had gotten wounded recently in action, and both Harry and the English physician had forbidden the dragon from going aloft. Surely Lung Tien Xiang hadn't ignored their warnings and gone anyway, risking doing himself injury?

No, that wasn’t it, Harry saw quickly – the Celestial was in the water, looking somewhat embarrassedly at his companion, the English aviator, who was shouting words of worry and warning at the dragon. After watching them for a moment, Harry turned and returned to Master Liu's cabin, to report that no, the ship wasn't about to sink and Lung Tien Xiang had only gone into the water for some exercise.

"It seems that he didn’t ask permission to go before he plunged, however," Harry said, with a faint smile. "His English companion seemed mighty distraught."

Liu Bao let out a bellow of laughter and then levered his considerable bulk from the floor of their cabin. "This I must see. Give me your hand, Ha Li."

Harry obediently helped the big man out of the cabin and out onto the deck where Liu Bao enjoyed the spectacle of Lung Tien Xiang's bath, laughing loudly with great amusement, while Harry himself considered the effects of swimming on the dragon's wounds, and what salt water might do. There was no danger of him injuring himself further, he decided and relaxed slightly. If Mr. Laurence wouldn't mind, he would give a superficial examination to Lung Tien Xiang once the Celestial got back on board, however.

"Tell me, Ha Li, what are they saying?" Liu Bao asked, after a moment of watching Mr. Laurence and Lung Tien Xiang calling something to each other.

"Honourable Lung Tien Xiang is telling his companion that the water is pleasant and that he should join him," Harry translated their English words to Chinese. "Mr. Laurence is hesitating because he’s still worried that honourable Lung Tien Xiang might do himself some injury, if not by swimming then in the attempt of getting back on board the Allegiance. He’s now calling for the ship's crew to prepare a jolly boat for him, one of the smaller crafts on this ship, so that he can join Lung Tien Xiang."

Liu Bao laughed again, resting his hands on his ample stomach and then smiling with satisfaction. "He’s not a bad sort of fellow, that Lao-ren-tze, is he? Not much like we expected."

"No, not indeed," Harry agreed, folding his hands into the sleeves of his physician's coat and considering the man, now stripped to breeches and threadbare shirt, who was in process of climbing off the ship. As an Englishman himself – granted, one from an alternate universe – he hadn't really been as vehemently against Lung Tien Xiang being under an English captain. However, the way the English – and indeed, all Europeans – acted towards their dragons was well known in the east. And having grown accustomed to the Chinese mode after living amongst them for the last fifteen or so years… he’d grown somewhat biased. And worried.

But Laurence didn't treat Lung Tien Xiang like a beast of burden. Or even the way some people treated their fellow humans – no. To the man, Lung Tien Xiang – or Temeraire, as he was called among the English – was the most important thing in the world.

"It is quite heartening; to see the way they behave towards each other. Theirs is a true companionship, and what unfairness there exists between them is a matter of use, and what is commonplace in their nation," Liu Bao murmured thoughtfully and glanced at him. "Don't you agree?"

"I suppose I do. However, the matter of circumstances still remains," Harry said diplomatically, and then fell silent as prince Yongxing came to the deck, bowing his head slightly at the man in recognition.

"Physician," the prince said, coming over. "Is he not in danger, engaging in such activity while he is wounded?"

"No, my imperial prince; honourable Lung Tien Xiang is quite safe. The exercise will do him good, and the salt water will only purify whatever impurities remain in the surface of the wound," Harry said, keeping his head lowered. "The only danger, is in the action of getting back on board, but I suspect it too can be achieved without harm. I will perform an examination on him once he is back on board."

The prince frowned slightly, looking between Lung Tien Xiang and his English companion. "You will inform me immediately if this activity has negative side effects," he said and then walked away from Harry and Liu Bao, his attendants quickly following him with fans and a chair ready.

"He is still not satisfied," Harry murmured, eying the prince's back uneasily. Not that it was anything new, really - even after he’d been one of the attending physicians at the palace for five years and more, prince Yongxing still hated him for being a foreigner. So it wasn't much of a surprise that the man would be dissatisfied with anything Lung Tien Xiang and Laurence did together. Even if it was swimming.

"No, I don't suppose he would be," Liu Bao agreed, and then slapped Harry on the shoulder. "Come, Master Há. The sun is hot and our tea awaits."

It did not wait; while they were distracted the tea had, in fact, gone cold.

 

3.

 

Harry looked between the dragon and its captain somewhat dubiously, while they examined the end result of his work. He hadn't had much to work with – just a bunch of money and a very badly make sketch of what the dragon wanted, and what the captain with his somewhat meagre talents had tried to replicate on paper. The final result was… not very admirable.

It was indeed the most hideous piece of jewellery he’d ever made – a gaudy tiara weighed down by enormous rubies, looking more misshapen all together, like some sort of alien vine bulging with eggs, than something as delicate as jewellery.

"It is beautiful, quite precisely what I wanted," the dragon said, however, sounding perfectly pleased. "Isn't it beautiful, Granby? Temeraire is going to be ever so jealous when he sees it, won't he?"

"Oh, dearest," the captain said, sounding like a man torn between mortification and deepest despair, as he eyed the heavy, gaudy thing. "Don't you think it is a perhaps a bit too much? Jewellery is a very fine thing, but at this rate people and dragons will all agree that you are only showing off."

Harry smothered a snort, turning it into cough as he looked between the dragon and the captain. Which one of them was more weighed down with gold and sparkly things, he wasn't sure – it was hard to see the fabric of Captain Granby's coat, and the dragon's harness looked like it was mostly made of gold, with jewels for the studs that spelled out her name, Iskierka.

"No, do not be silly. Of course I need to show off my wealth, otherwise people might mistake me for a pauper," the dragon said imperiously. "And I cannot go around looking like a pauper when that Lien one is going around with diamonds as big as chicken's eggs on her brow. Now, quickly, put the tiara on me."

The captain turned a hopeless look at Harry, who let a small chuckle slip at the look on the man's face. "There, there," he said consolingly, patting the man's shoulder before adding in low tones; "With any luck it will fall off in mid-flight and then you will never have to see it again."

"Instead I'd have to listen to her complaining about how it fell off for the rest of my natural life," Granby sighed, and together they went about adorning the spiky dragon's horned brown with the gaudy, ugly tiara.

 

4.

 

"When I thought we'd spend the rest of our lives together, I sort of thought it would be as a man and wife," Harry mused, while stroking the vivid red scales on Ginny's neck. She made a magnificent dragon, large, brilliantly coloured, with scales that shone blood and fire, and horns which looked like they were made of gold. Of course, Ron looked precisely the same where he lay lazily on his side, with exasperated Hermione sitting on his forearm – but in Harry's opinion, Ginny was a much nicer looking dragon.

"Maybe," Ginny agreed, her voice lower than before, rumbling like an earth quake. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean this to happen – that potion… we didn't expect this, not really."

"It's not your fault," Harry assured her. "Well, not _just_ yours anyway." The potion had been meant to show them their inner animals and hopefully let them discover what sort of animagi they could become. Instead it had done jack squat to Harry and Hermione, while Ron and Ginny had permanently transformed. If anyone was at fault, it was the idiot who’d written the book they’d been following for the potion's creation. And of course, all four of them as a whole, when they decided that using such means was a good idea.

"I expect Ron and I will have to go to Dragon Sanctuaries," Ginny said, lowering her large, long head and sighing.

"Not if I can help it," Harry promised, quickly sliding down from her arm and going to face her. He spent a moment considering her face, draconic through and through – even her eyes, formerly brown and so humane, were now slit-pupilled and more yellow than brown. Even there, she was a dragon. But that didn't make her any less Ginny.

Smiling, he wrapped his arms as widely around her snout as he could – which was to say, not very far. "Dragon or human, I still love you lots, Ginny Weasley," he said. "And I won't be parted from you that easily. I'm sure we’ll figure something out. And if not us, then Hermione."

"Yes," she agreed, closing her eyes. For a moment they remained silent, taking comfort from each other, before Harry detached himself from her and turned to face Hermione and Ron, who seemed locked in similar communion.

"So," Harry asked once they’d comforted each other and themselves enough and could finally put their heads, human and draconic both, together for some serious thinking. "What now? There's no question that Ron and Ginny make the best dragons ever, but what will we do? If people find out, you know what they’ll try to do."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, absently scratching below Ron's chin while she thought. "Well, there are few things we could do. We could hide – there are still places in this world where people aren't that plentiful and where we could live in peace. Or we could try and push for our freedom here but it would be a pretty hard task, with most everyone either against it or for experimenting on Ron and Ginny. Or we could make a clean break from this world all together and look for a place where we might fit in better, humans and dragons both."

"What about the war?" Ginny asked, low, and they all bowed their heads in memory of the Order, of the rest of the Weasley Family – of Hermione's parents, dead after Death Eaters had attacked the plane they’d been in. They were losing, which was why they’d gone for the stupid potion in the first place, striving for any and all advantages at hand.

"Hang the war," Harry said after a moment, scowling. "With us four here, I don't really care one way or another about the wizarding world. Not with everything good about it dead and trampled into the mud."

There was a general murmur of agreement. They still had each other, and now they had something more than they had before – not a reason to fight, but a reason to leave and not feel guilty about it. In the end, and after all the stuff they’d gone through, it was all they needed.

Hermione looked at the three others and then nodded. "We’d best get to work, then."

 

5.

 

"Damn Voldemort, damn Death Eaters, damn magic and damn everything else too," Harry grumbled, while pacing along the seal invested shore of the stupid lump of rock he’d been marooned on. Marooned on an empty island, how bloody poetic. And not just marooned, but marooned on an empty island in a bloody alternate reality. Overblown, much?

"And damn you too," he added at a hissing, slithering something that had caught his attention – and then he stopped to look at the hissing, slithering something more closely. It wasn't another seal or a sea bird, but a snake. A great big _huge_ snake, bigger than the boa constrictor he had once met in a zoo – big enough to eat the boa constrictor, actually. And not just that, but it was covered in long fins and it had _legs_.

"Huh," Harry said, while the serpent creature hissed at him, snapping its jaws and gurgling. "Well hiss and gurgle at you too," he hissed back at it in Parseltongue, glaring at the serpent. "And what the hell are you supposed to be?"

The serpent reared back, looking startled. "You're intelligent?" it asked, surprised.

"No, I'm as stupid as a brick wall; how else do you expect I'd be here, without any provisions, no idea where I'm to get any fresh water, or shelter? Here I am without a bloody thing but the clothing on my back, waiting to starve or freeze to death or to be eaten by seals and birds! Of course I am bloody intelligent, I'm a bleeding genius," Harry snapped back. He felt weirdly better, once he got the tirade out. "Well," he said, as the serpent creature shrank back under the tone of his voice. "Never mind. What are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I am a serpent of the sea," the creature said proudly and then shrank back a bit. "Only, I'm still a bit young so I am not that impressive, I suppose. I only hatched few days ago."

"Well, felicitations and salutations and a great many congratulations for hatching. Welcome to the world. It is a miserable, cold place with entirely too many seals, but I'm sure you'll fit right in," Harry said consolingly.

But it wasn't actually that cold – as the day wore on, the air got a bit warmer and once Harry got used to the idea of being marooned, it wasn't that bad. The island was lush with green stuff, and there were the seals and the birds and whatnot to eat once he got hungry, probably. First he’d need to manage a blade of some sort to kill them with, of course, but that was a problem for whenever he got hungry.

"So, a serpent of the sea," he asked of the serpent creature which was now, for some reason or other, following him. "What do serpents of the sea do around here, precisely?"

"I don't know. Nothing much, I suppose; we live and we eat and we are," the serpent said, following him in odd, slithering lunges, partially crawling like a snake, partially walking. Her fore and hind legs were separated by a good five feet of body, and they were rather short at that, so she couldn't quite walk alone, and thus while walking, or crawling, her belly also touched the ground. "What do humans do around here?"

"Survive, if I'm at all lucky," Harry answered and considered the island. It looked like there was a volcano there, which probably accounted for the all lush liveliness. "Perhaps also build a shelter. Would you like to build a shelter with me, um… what is your name anyway?"

"I don't have one," the sea serpent said, indignant.

"Hm. Well… uhm…" Harry considered it for a moment, eying her. "I'll call you Silvery, and that'll do. Now. Would you like to build a shelter with me, Silvery?"

"I would love to," the serpent said, and then considered. "What is a shelter?"

In the years that followed, they build a shelter, and another and another. The first one was little more than bunch of branches thrown together to make a ceiling – the next, after Harry had spent months developing stone tools for the work, was more like a hut than a bunch of sticks. The third, build five years after he’d been marooned, was a sort of pavilion with a corner for fire pit and a sleeping place and enough space to accommodate Silvery, who had grown and grown and grown on the healthy diet of seals and then on local fish, sharks and whales and whatnot. Hang eating the boa constrictor – by the time they’d lived together for some eight or so years, she was big enough to eat the Basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets.

"Keep at it and this island won't be big enough to accommodate you," Harry complained while climbing over her silvery coils; they crowded the pavilion's every corner and made him wonder if it was time they started considering building another one. "It's a small wonder you haven't eaten all the seals yet."

"You told me not to," Silvery answered with a wide, many toothed yawn. "I would like some seals, though," she added, lifting her head and then scowling and shaking her head – and the long thread of seaweed which grew into the folds of her scales and which Harry periodically had to weed off her. "I think I shall have a swim and maybe I will catch a seal or few. Would you like to come and have a swim with me?"

"Not bloody likely, the water’s far too cold," Harry muttered, eyeing the floor of the pavilion with something like dismay. Next time he’d make it from stone, rather than wood. "You go and have fun. Frolic a bit and stuff."

"Will do," she said.

A few hours later, Silvery returned in a fury. "There is a thing in the water, and it is taking all my seals!" she said. "Come and tell it to stop!"

"What thing?" Harry asked, obediently climbing to her neck. She slither-crawled down from their pavilion, through the forest through which she had made her paths ages ago, and then finally to the shore – where he could see a big sailing vessel, bobbing on the waves – with a cage full of seals in the back. "Well, I'll be damned," Harry murmured, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Lift up a bit, would you Silvery? I can't quite see."

She did, and great ruckus went up on the _HMS Allegiance_ , when they saw the enormous sea serpent, peering at them from the island.

 

6\. Love wasn't something he expected to happen

 

Tharkay looked away from the small fire he had set up to cook with and hopefully moisten the little amount of meat he had; to stretch it out so that it would feed two, rather than one. As the small flame crackled, it shed both light and shadows on his pale companion's face: too pale for the desert. Only a day or so, and the other was getting burns, his dry cheeks marked with red.

"I don't suppose you're feeling like talking yet?" he asked in English, eyeing the other man. Like before, he didn't get an answer, and with a shake of his head he turned back to the food. So far, the other man hadn't said a word – not even to ask for water or food when he had been obviously starved and dying of thirst.

Changing language, Tharkay spoke out in French. "It’s still three weeks until we reach civilization," he said, and glanced at the other man. No change; the man merely stared into the space before him, his green eyes vacant, his black hair in disorder, sand encrusted at the roots. And the man seemed unaware of all of it.

"Well, at least you don't complain, which I much appreciate," Tharkay muttered in a language he rarely used, his mother's tongue, and shook his head. For a long while he was silent, as he prepared the simple, meagre food, doing what he could about the taste with his dwindling supply of spices, before pouring some of the makeshift soup into his own, his only, cup. Then, leaving the rest to simmer, he approached his silent companion to try and see if the man would take the cup himself or if he had to be fed.

It was then that spark of life could be seen. The man jerked as the smell of the soup reached him, and it was like veil had been lifted from his green eyes – he blinked, looked up, saw Tharkay, and blinked again.

"Are you with me now?" Tharkay asked with a dry tilt to his smile, speaking in English once more – the most likely language for this person to understand.

"Where… where am I?" the man asked, blinking again.

"Taklamakan," Tharkay said, and handed the cup over. "I found you this morning, half dead of heat and thirst. I was starting to think the sun had scorched your brain as well as your hands, for you seemed more like a walking corpse than a man."

"Oh," the man answered, looking at the cup he had been given and then up again. "I'm… sorry," he offered, still confused, and then seemed to realise how much his stomach was complaining, for he drank the soup quickly and without hesitation, not even wincing when it must've burned his tongue. Then, handing the cup back, he stood up and looked around them.

Whoever he was, Tharkay had to admit that he struck an imposing, and impressive figure. Why he was wearing red robes embroidered with gold, Tharkay didn't know, but they were rather striking. Now that the slump of his shoulders and the purposelessness of being were gone, there was a quality of unearthly strength about the man, something about the way he held himself.

Then the man pulled something out from his sleeve – a thin wooden rod – and waved it. Tharkay couldn't have kept himself from gasping or his eyes from widening even if he had been told to at a gun point; not at the sight of the light blooming from the rod's end, not at the writing that light spelled out into the air: _Xinjiang, Taklamakan,1806 May 16th, 22.53_. It wasn't like anything Tharkay had ever seen, it wasn't natural, it wasn't _normal_.

"Huh," the man murmured, eyeing the floating, glowing writing for a moment before wiping it away with a wave of his hand, and doing something else – this time the text that appeared was wholly nonsensical, forming letters and symbols Tharkay had never seen. "Well, that sucks," the man said, scowling at the text before seeming to realise that he had an audience. "Oh, sorry about that – had to check where I was," the man said, and wiped away the nonsensical text as well.

"How are you doing that?" Tharkay asked suspiciously, but made no move to reach for his knife; though it was definitely on his mind.

"Magic," the man answered, peering around them for a moment before sighing and glancing at him again. "My name is Harry Potter, by the way."

Harry Potter, who seemed to think himself a wizard. Tharkay would've found an endless amount of amusement in the ordeal, if it wasn't for the fact that the man could, with contemptuous ease, break all the laws of nature and the universe as Tharkay knew them. With a flick of his wand he turned his robes into something more suitable for desert, and with another he did not only double but triple their food rations – not doing the same to water because he could _make_ water out of thin air. During the day his magic could make them cooler, during the night warmer, and never did dirt stick after Harry regained his senses, for another flick cleaned them and their clothing as if they had never gotten dirty in the first place.

What was worse, Tharkay couldn't help liking the man. The man had not only adapted fast and never complained, but he was taking an odd sort of pleasure in their circumstances, saying that he’d never been in the desert before, and acting often like he was on holiday, rather than struggling against the elements.

"Why are you not worried about how you ended up out here?" Tharkay asked.

"I know how I ended up in here. The dee oh effing em messed up again," Harry said, shrugging cheerfully. "Can't say I mind. I was getting bored with my job anyway, and this place is _interesting_." He grinned and looked at Tharkay, green eyes sparkling in the normally oppressing light of the sun. " _You_ are interesting."

Tharkay looked away, uneasy and pleased all at once.

 

7\. Frigid silence stretched uncomfortably; then the ice broke - quite literally

 

The tear in space whirled above the frozen BlackLake like some sort of miniature galaxy, flickering in all the colours of the universe, before opening, spitting out an enormous black creature, and then closing with a last flickering of bright, yellow light. There was a momentary silence as the dragon that had appeared looked around in deep confusion; the people on its back did the same, before noticing the people on the lake's surface.

"It's not my fault!" Harry cried out the moment all eyes settled onto him, some more accusingly than others. "It's not!"

"You're the one who wanted to try a spell you yourself invented," Hermione pointed out.

"Still not my fault," Harry said insistently, while quickly hiding the Elder Wand behind his back. "And, um. It doesn't really matter whose fault it is at this point anyway, does it? I mean," he motioned up to the hovering dragon with one hand. "They're already here and… well, we should probably be concentrating on the great big dragon with people on its back, than on ourselves."

Hermione rolled her eyes but took out her own wand and pointed it at her throat. "We're terrible sorry for the confusion, but perhaps you could come down for a moment?!" she called, with sonorous enforcing her normal voice. "And we'll see about getting you back to where you came from."

There was a moment of confusion and discussion going on the dragon's back, before it called down. "My crew would like to know who you are," the dragon said, in a very human voice.  "And where is this place?"

Hermione sighed and introduced herself, Harry, and Ron who so far has been too busy laughing to bother speaking. "And these are the grounds of Hogwarts, which is a school," Hermione added. "Now, if you would please land so that we can start untangling this mess."

The dragon came to land, touching onto the snowy surface of the ice with surprising gentleness before letting his weigh completely land onto it. There was an ominous crack, but the ice held and after a moment of hesitation the dragon tucked its enormous wings to its sides. "Hello," it said, while lifting one foreleg to help couple of men on his back down. "Did you pull us here? How did you do it? We were in _Australia_ just the moment before, and I've never heard of anything like this. How is it possible?"

"Magic," Ron said in grandiose tones, and chuckled before slapping Harry onto the back. "You have a grand gift for disaster, mate. Maybe we should take that wand away from you before you make time go backwards and make the sun and moon switch places."

"Not my fault," Harry repeated, though at this point it was rather obvious that it was his fault. But he'd be damned before he'd admit it out loud.

"Hello," the blond haired man in the front said rather cautiously, while the other, a darker skinned man with Asian features, stared unblinkingly at the snow. "Is this… that is to say, did we somehow… is this a…" the man tried to ask, but didn't seem able to get the impossible question through, as he stared helplessly at the three magicians, their clothing, the surrounding space.

"I am really, really sorry, this is all our fault. All Harry's fault, actually," Hermione said with a sigh, nudging at Harry's shoulder. "He was trying a new spell, and it had some very strange side effects. I'm afraid to say that you were probably pulled here from an alternate universe."

"What?" the blond man asked helplessly, while the Asian man turned to look at them thoughtfully and the dragon lowered its head.

"Alternate universe?" the dragon asked curiously. "What is that?"

Hermione explained things about the multi universe and how choices and decisions led to the creation of universes – so that every possible outcome of every choice existed, _somewhere_ , and thus there was an endless amount of endlessly splitting and multiplying universes, some quite like their own, some vastly different, and so on. Harry and Ron, understandably, grew rather bored with it soon and turned their attentions to the dragon instead – to the dragon, and to the harness it was wearing and the men it was carrying.

"You know, that would be the coolest thing ever. And probably much easier and much more comfortable than the way we rode on the Gringotts Ironbelly," Harry muttered to Ron. "D'ya reckon we could tame a dragon, and make it wear a harness like that?"

"Wizards have been trying for centuries, so I wouldn't put my money on it, mate," Ron answered, but there was a tone of consideration and longing in his voice.

"Do you mean to say," the blonde man – Captain Laurence, apparently – started, "that we have been pulled into another _world_ entirely? By _magic_?"

"Well… that's the gist of it, yes," Hermione said apologetically. "I am very sorry."

"Magic?" the man repeated. "Such a thing… surely it cannot _exist_ , the very notion –"

"Just because you don't believe in it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist," Hermione shrugged. "Besides, the facts are there, and all you need to do, really, is to look around yourself. I could be lying. But I couldn't create winter, a frozen lake or a castle out of nothing," she said and then turned to Harry. "But don't worry because we’re going to figure out a way to send you back home," she added, in stern, accusing tones.

"Not my fault," Harry said again, rather meekly this time, and there was a crackle of ice below them.

 

8\. Rocks fall, everyone dies

 

"Well, this is a mess," Harry mused, eyeing the crowd of spirits who looked at the valley they’d been in, which was now covered in snow, ice, and what looked like half of the mountain. Some thirty men, half a dozen dragons, all dead by a mixture of an avalanche and a landslide. Shaking his head, he turned to the biggest of the spirits. "Whatever possessed you to roar out on a mountain side? Don't you know that loud sounds cause just these sorts of things to happen?"

"Well, I know it now," Temeraire said, rather defensively, while beside him William Laurence just looked dismally at the place where their camp had been moments ago. "I suppose," the dragon continued, "that this is the end for us. Oh, what a pity – I didn't even make back to England and there was so much to be done."

"There are worse ways to die," Tharkay said, coming towards Harry. "What I want to know, however, is why _I_ am here. I am not Christian."

"Whatever has that got to do with anything?" Harry asked, and the man looked pointedly at his black wings. "Oh, that. Oh, never mind that – I'm not an angel," he said, waving the unspoken question aside and getting some startled looks from what he assumed where Christians in the group. "Stop looking at me like that, I'm not a demon either, for all love. I’m the Master of Death, and that's that. The wings are sort of…" he flapped them. "Well, they're something like a badge of office, I suppose. Anyway, there's no religions attached to me, one way or the other."

"But then –" Laurence started and hesitated, looking at him. "Then what will… what will happen to us?"

Harry blinked and then snorted. "Oh, stop looking at me like that – I'm not here to steal your place in heaven or anything like that. My job’s to reverse death, not to ferry goods back and forth between this place and various afterlives. Now _that_ is a job for an angel," he said and shook his head, before turning to the miserable scene before them. "No, I'm here to fix the mess you people caused."

"Pardon?" Laurence asked, insulted.

"Whatever made you think this was proper moment for you lot to die?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes and stepping forward. Pulling out the Elder Wand, he considered where to start. Even he couldn't turn back time, sadly enough, so he couldn't stop the avalanche and landslide from happening. But maybe he could change the result.

"What do you mean, proper moment? We died, didn't we?" another spirit came forward, John Granby this time.

"People die at their appointed times. Your lot's time isn't quite yet," Harry said and glanced at the other dragons. "Nor yours," he added, and the pack of ferals relaxed slightly.

"Does that mean… we haven't died?" Tharkay asked suspiciously.

"Oh, no, you're all dead as stones," Harry said, making them gasp. "But I'm not going to let you stay that way. Just give me half an hour, and I'll set this mess to rights."

Half an hour later, the avalanche and landslide was reduced to just an avalanche, and the spirits had been returned to their repaired, once more living bodies. Harry lingered for a moment longer to see that they all, with their memories modified of course, managed to get out of the snow. As the people dug themselves out, there was a flash beside him, and glancing, Harry saw an angel at his side.

"I fixed it already," he pointed out to the little boy.

"I know," Andrew Morgan said, shrugging, his little white wings flashing. "But one of them is going to stay dead, and I am here to pick him up."

"Ah," Harry nodded and turned to the scene. Soon most of the people had been dug out, except for one Baylesworth, who’d been discovered with a broken neck. While Harry watched, Angel Morgan moved forward to shake loose the spirit from its broken body, bringing the dazed lieutenant out.

"I thought we were supposed to live," the man complained and then looked at the little angel. "Morgan! What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Lieutenant Baylesworth," the boy angel smiled while holding out his hand for the man. "I've been put in charge of the spirits of Temeraire's crew."

"Huh," the lieutenant said, looking shocked even as he grasped the boy angel's hand. Together they faded out of view, while Harry remained to make sure that all of those who were supposed to survive did so. Of all the jobs he’d had over the course of the aeons, watching over the fates and destinies of men was one of the most thankless ones he’d had, he decided as the men went about the business of surviving without as much as a thanks thrown to his direction.

"That's what I get, for accepting interdimensional jobs," he muttered and got back to work.

 

9\.  It was amazing how many sailors couldn’t swim.

 

"For the umpteenth time, no, I am not going to eat you," Harry growled, while dragging the half drowned, struggling sailor towards the boat that hadn't noticed the poor man falling off.

"B-but you're a mer-mer-" the man stuttered.

"Say mermaid, and I will let you drown," Harry snapped, and the terrified sailor fell silent, eyes wide and breath gurgling with sea water. Harrumphing, Harry reformed his grip on the man's chin and kept on dragging him towards the boat, where he could very happily release his useless burden to the people on board.

"It's _merman_ ," he said, once he’d reached the ship's side. "When you tell all your idiot fellows about your little escapade, remember that. A merman, not mermaid. No tits, no ovaries, no womb, no nothing," he said. "Mer _man_. Got it?"

"Yes sir," the sailor said, his eyes wide.

"Good," Harry nodded, then took a grip on the back of the man's coat before, with little bit of magical strength, threw the man out of the water, over the ship's side and onboard. It was likely that the man probably broke a few bones on landing, but hell if Harry cared.

"Why do I keep saving their half drowned arses, I don't know," he grumbled, as he dived back into the water, and swam away.

Damn sailors and damn the merpeople of Hogwarts for their tricks. All he’d wanted was to survive through the Triwizard tournament with his life intact, but noo… of course he couldn't do anything as simple as that. Instead he’d fallen into a cauldron of some weird mermaid potion and then into a hole in the lake floor and then…

Though he had to admit, living as a merman in an alternate reality was rather easier than living as a wizard and as the boy who lived in the other world. At least here he didn't have to worry about Dark Lords or insane house elves or escaped convicts or anything like that. Instead there were sea serpents who were mostly annoying, and sailors who tried to drown themselves on a daily basis. He had no idea why, but it seemed like most of them didn't know how to swim. They went to the sea on sailing ships, and they _didn't know how to swim_.

"Maybe I should let them drown. It'd be like natural selection," he muttered, and swam off.

But, as irritated as he was with most of them – they all thought he was going to either eat them, curse them with lifelong bad luck or have his wicked way with them, for some weird reason – he couldn't really let the poor idiots drown. It would've been as bad as drowning them himself – so if he could, he always either sent them back to their boats, or took them to any nearby land he knew of. It was something to do, at any rate, there weren’t that many entertainments in the ocean, and he got bored often. If not for them all trying to fight and struggle against him in the beginning, it would've been even interesting to do.

"Now what?" he murmured, rousing from sleep some months later when the odd, sixth sense he’d developed for these things rang out. Glancing up, he launched himself from the sea bed until he reached the ship sailing overhead, all sails spread out, going a rather impressive speed. Breathing in the air for the first time in a while, Harry looked around for the source for his sense's ringing, until he found the young woman who was steadily sinking, her heavy dress and cloak not helping her in the slightest. "For Merlin's sake," Harry muttered, and dived to fetch the woman.

It turned out to be the most difficult rescue he’d performed. Her dress made the woman sink like a stone, and after a good ten minutes of struggling, Harry was forced to tear the thing off her to get her to the surface – where he had to freeze himself a raft so that he could try and resuscitate her, she having drowned while he’d been fighting with the dress. Five minutes of CPR left the woman finally coughing but alive – but by that time, the ship had progressed at an incredible rate, and even with Harry's speed he doubted he'd be able to reach it with her in tow.

"Good grief," was the first thing the woman said, at the sight of him sitting there on the raft of magically created ice, with his long black tail dipping into the water, green fins flashing in the sun.

"Hi," Harry answered, resting one hand on his hip and leaning the other onto the ice – it was very hard to _sit_ with a fish tail. "Nice day to drown, isn't it? How are you feeling?"

"Am I hallucinating?" the woman asked feebly, as she began to tremble with cold.

"Sadly, no," Harry smiled, flashing merman's fangs at her. "But you're in pretty deep shit, pardon my French." He pointed past her. "That white speck there, you see? That's your ship. And I'd need a miracle to reach it, with the rate it's going."

"Good god," the young woman said, shuddering, her voice frailer still. "I fell off the ship. This is… this is terrible." She turned to him. "But they should turn back to look for me once they realise I fell, surely?"

"I don't know. Some of them do. Not all of them," Harry shrugged. "And I think any sailor with sense would realise that with your dress you would've sank like a stone. Which you did. But you never know," he added and then held out his hand. "I'm Harry, by the way. Congratulations on not drowning."

"Lady Allendale, at your s-service," she said while taking the hand, long nails and webbing between fingers and all, without as much as flinching. Her teeth were clattering now. "Th-that is to say, Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth. That's a mouthful, I'll call you Liz," Harry decided and then eyed her curiously. She was so far the only rescue he had performed who hadn't gone into hysterics at the sight of him. "Well, Liz. We can wait here while you slowly freeze to death, try and catch up with the ship – which we won't be able to do – or I can take you to a nearby island," he said, pointing. "There ought to be some fresh water there, and wood to make fire and stuff."

She hesitated, glancing after the ship. "C-could you really?" she asked then. "T-take me to the island, that is?"

"Sure," Harry agreed and grinned. "Have you ever had a piggyback ride, Liz? I promise you, it was nothing compared to having a piggyback ride on a merman."

 

10\. The only light left was the moon

 

"Well, at least we’re alive and in… something like one piece," Lupin said as he limped back to Harry, who was sitting in Moody's vast, rather intimidating shadow. "How are you feeling, Harry?"

"I'm fine. Not a scratch on me," Harry said tiredly. "How is, um… Tonks, was it?"

"Still out cold, but she should be right as rain once she comes to. One benefit Metamorphmagi have over other people is that they can simply transform all their wounds away," Lupin said, and sat onto a rock next to Harry before looking up to the colossal, rough dragon who was shielding them from the cold wind. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell us how you managed to transform yourself into a dragon, Moody?" he asked, with a faint smile.

"It's a long story of an idiot Auror who thought bigger and stronger was better," the one eyed dragon grumbled, turning his head and looking down at them. He was probably the ugliest dragon Harry had ever seen – and for a wizard who had very little interest in dragons, he had seen _many_. His draconic face was just as scarred as his human one, and on top of that the dragon he transformed into seemed to naturally have rough scales that looked more like flecks of stone than scales. But at least he didn't have the magical eye, which would've turned him more grotesque still – that one had been left in his human form, it seemed.

"Aren't they all?" Lupin asked, shaking his head, and then took out his wand. "Now, let's see where we are…"

Harry looked at him for a while, but he couldn't make out anything about what the man was doing. After a moment, he let his head sink, and tried to figure out what happened. One moment they had been on brooms, flying away from the Privet Drive and Surrey towards London with Moody at the head of the group, and then… they had been attacked? He wasn't quite sure, all he could remember were flashes of light and a horrible tearing sound like someone ripping stiff fabric, only multiplied by a thousand times. Then they had been… here. Whereever here was.

"It doesn't look good," Lupin murmured, waving his wand once more, then another time, before sighing. "We might've caused a Hedda's Flash."

"Damn," Moody grumbled, while Harry lifted his head.

"What is a Hedda's Flash?" the youngest of the lot asked.

"It's a magical backlash that sometimes happens when magic collides in a particular way," Moody said. "When light and dark collide just right – it's rather like how lightning and storms are created in the atmosphere. Except magic doesn't quite discharge in lightning."

"Hedda's Flash creates momentary rips in the universe," Lupin added. "Rather like, hum… you wouldn't happen to know the muggle concept of _wormholes_? It's similar to that, except Hedda's Flash goes through realities, rather than just space."

"So, what, we're in another reality?" Harry asked dubiously.

"Yes. With any luck, it won't be much different from the reality we left, but sadly it very rarely works like that. Hedda the Traveller – who first recorded and named the phenomenon – came into our reality from a vastly different one that way, if I recall it correctly. I think the Statute of Secrecy had never been made there and muggles and wizards lived all together – and she came from the future as well, unless I'm completely mistaken," Lupin said thoughtfully. "So it might be anything, really."

"We’ll see about it in the morning," Moody grumbled, looking up and to the moon, which shone very faintly through the cloud coverage above them. Everything else was dark, and Harry couldn't have said what was twenty feet away, not to mention anything else.

"We can't move until Tonks regains consciousness at any rate. We might as well try and get some rest," Lupin sighed, and then waved his wand, creating a couple of blankets from nothing. He handed one of them to Harry.

"I'll keep watch," Moody said, shifting a little, scales and horns rattling, wings unfolding slightly before settling down against his sides again. "I don't get tired that quickly in this form."

"Good," Lupin said, and settled down – seemingly not all that worried about the whole being-in-another-reality thing. Harry gave him an uneasy look before glancing up at Moody – who was a bloody _dragon_ – and then towards the dark lump, which was Tonks. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he settled down as well, tucking himself as comfortably into the blanket as he could.

He had no idea why, but he had a terrible feeling that whatever this world was like, however they’d gotten there… none of them were going home any time soon.

Maybe never.

 


End file.
